An Eastern Monk in Middle Earth!
by Reina0
Summary: Crossover with The Lord of the Rings obscure, I know... Chichiri finds himself in Middle Earth, of all places, and chances to meet upon a Fellowship fleeing wargs...


Chichiri the wandering monk awoke early one morning to find a small cat fast asleep on his head. He carefully eased the tiny creature off his head and held the feline up to get a better look at him. The little cat looked at him with bleary eyes and yawned widely, revealing many teeth aptly suited to biting.

Chichiri set down the cat warily and watched him, trying to decide whether he should take him down to the village in the valley below, or allow him to accompany him on his travels. The cat's fur was white with black markings in some strange design that Chichiri didn't think was natural for cats to have. Little green eyes looked up at him imploringly.

With a small grin, Chichiri picked up his shajukou and slung his kesa over one shoulder. He picked up his kasa, but found it inconveniently filled with cat. Chichiri set the cat back on the ground, where it began to mew piteously.

"All right, no da," Chichiri sighed. He let the cat ride in his kasa and set off for the village in the valley. "I think I'll name you. What about Toto?"

There was the peaceful silence of the hours before daybreak among the trees. Chichiri enjoyed the quiet; it gave him time to clear his thoughts. This particular morning, however, was not fated to be a thoughtful one. The cat caterwauled loudly, filling the quiet with harsh meows. Chichiri tried to ignore the noise and focused harder on his thoughts. The cat gave up on his vocal demonstration and began to use the kasa as a scratching post.

"Daaa! What are you doing?" Chichiri gasped. He dumped the cat out of the kasa and tied it onto his head firmly. The cat was back to yelling and howling. Chichiri ventured closer, expecting to be hissed at, but the cat quieted instantaneously. He purred and twirled around Chichiri's legs nimbly. The monk stood stoically, thinking that this was a very strange cat. But there are very few who can resist cute little kitties, and eventually Chichiri reached down to stroke the cat's back gently.

As soon as his fingers touched the black fur design, Chichiri felt a rushing sensation. All the colors of his surroundings swirled and mixed together dizzyingly. The monk put a hand to his head. "Daaa. . . "

The colors settled and Chichiri found himself in a dark forest at night. The cat purred underneath his hand. Chichiri looked around cautiously. "Toto, I don't think we're in Konan anymore, na no da."

The sounds of running feet came tearing from the trees and Chichiri saw nine people race past him. Chichiri straightened up and called after them, "Excuse me, no da."

The group skidded to a halt and did a communal double take before noticing Chichiri. He took in their strange garments in a glance while they did likewise with him. Then one of the people, an old man in travel-worn grey robes and a battered grey-blue hat who bore a gnarled staff, stepped forward and eyed Chichiri questioningly.

Chichiri grinned and bowed. "I seem to be lost, no da. . . "

The old man said hurriedly, "I am afraid we're in a bit of a rush. We're being chased, you see, and these woods are dangerous." His tone was sardonic.

The monk looked around at the forest. "Well, I figured that much. . . " The group of strangers turned and continued on their way quickly. Chichiri, beset by curiosity about this place, followed them, hoping to assuage his inquisitiveness.

"If you don't mind, I think I will tag along, na no da," he told the rearguard cheerfully. The man, who _really_ needed to shave, glanced at him and nodded curtly. "Fine, but shut your trap, okay?"

As they ran, the sounds of howling echoed behind them and the patter of paws running could be heard. "They're getting closer!" whispered the man next to Chichiri.

"Damn wolves," muttered another man. His facial hair was in better condition, but his fine clothes were worn. He reached for a horn at his side, but the old man held up a hand.

"No, Boromir. The last thing we need is to lead the wolves right to us."

"They're going to find us anyway," the man called Boromir muttered resentfully, but he moved his hand to his sword hilt instead.

"Wolves?" Chichiri asked. "A well-placed chi blast would take care of wolves."

The man who needed to shave looked at him irritably. "I don't know what 'chi blasts' are, but these are no ordinary wolves. They're wargs, evil and vile creatures."

"Could I at least try?" Chichiri asked, in hopes that he could prove his worth to these people, but at that moment the old man said hoarsely, "Fire! Get fire brands!"

Boromir called softly, "Here, Aragorn!" and the man who needed to shave went to help the other set light to a few branches. These were quickly passed around. Chichiri declined the offer of one; he held up two fingers meditatively and said calmly, "I will use my chi."

"What in the name of Elbereth is a chi?" asked another man, very tall and blond, with exasperation.

"I'll tell you later," Chichiri said quickly, noting the glowing eyes appearing out of the darkness. The tall man shrugged and nocked an arrow to his bow.

Chichiri saw very quickly that these were no ordinary wolves, but still managed to take care of a few. The archer was having the best luck, as was the old man, who wielded an impressive looking sword as well as the staff, which seemed to have an affinity for knocking against wolf heads. When the wolves finally retreated, the old man cried out, "Hurry! They will be on us soon again!"

They rushed out of the woods, heading for mountains, which loomed out of the distance as deeper shadows in the shadow of night. Chichiri was intent on listening for more wolves; he did not look around at his surroundings much. When they halted, it was on the edge of a great, still lake. To one side was a great stone wall, built out of the mountain and covered in growths of long-dead vines and obscured by trees. The old man peered around in the gloom warily, and then motioned. They started towards a bare spot on the wall. It was totally flat and unremarkable. Chichiri studied it without much interest.

"The Doors of Moria should be around here," the old man muttered to himself. He tapped the wall a few times with his staff. A very small person with hairy feet came forward to stand beside him. "I don't see a door," he said plaintively.

"That is because it is a _hidden_ door, Peregrin Took," the old man said severely. "Now let me think in peace! What is the opening spell?"

"Perhaps my chi powers could open it," Chichiri suggested helpfully. He got a sharp look from the old man and decided to be quiet.

The old man raised his arms and called out in a strong voice, "Edro!"

Nothing happened. Muttering under his breath about obstinate doors, the old man racked his brain.

Chichiri joined the rest of the group at the lake shore. "Who are you, anyway?" asked the man named Aragorn. "I've done quite a bit of traveling along Eriador and Gondor, even into Rhovanion and Rhun. Where are you from?"

"You dress so weird," said the small person called Peregrin Took. "Do you call that thing a hat? Why is there cat hair inside it?"

With a start, Chichiri looked around for the cat frantically. It was no where to be seen. Mournfully he shook his head, hoping the wolves had not gotten the little creature. "Daaa, a cat was accompanying me. I come from Konan; have you heard of it?"

The blank looks he received told all. "I was. . . uh. . . traveling and took a wrong turn, na no da. Where, um, am I, no da?"

"Middle Earth," said Peregrin Took lazily. "More specifically, near the region called Eregion, or Hollin, but Aragorn knows more about that sort of thing. Why do you keep saying 'no da'?"

"What's your name?" asked another small person. "I'm Meriadoc Brandybuck, but you can call me Merry."

"My name is Ri Houjun," Chichiri said.

"Nice to meet you, Ri," Peregrin Took said, catching Chichiri's hand and shaking it. "Call me Pippin."

"No, no, _my_ name is Houjun. My family's name is Ri, no da." Chichiri grabbed his hand away, wondering what other weird customs this 'Eregion' place had. "But I was born as a Celestial Warrior of Suzaku. My seishi name is Chichiri. I prefer to be called that, no da." He bowed politely.

"Chi-chi-ri," yet another short person said slowly. "What a name! Can I call you Chichiri-Houjun, since you seem to have a lot of names? I'm Sam." He too attempted to shake Chichiri's hand.

In order that he would not have to shake anymore hands, Chichiri gripped his staff tightly and bowed. Startled, Sam paused and bowed back. The three men came forward and introduced themselves.

"I am Boromir son of Denethor, of Gondor's Minas Tirith," said the man with the nice looking beard formally. Chichiri blinked. "Nice to meet you, Boromir son of Denethor, of. . . Gondor's Minas Tirith."

Boromir sighed. "Just Boromir will do."

Aragorn said simply, "Call me Aragorn."

"Or Strider," Merry piped up. "He has lots of names just like you, Chichiri-Houjun."

"I am Legolas," the tall man said, "an elf of the Mirkwood Realm."

"Elf?" Chichiri thought for a moment. "What are they, na no da?"

Sam said wisely, "They're like Men, only they have pointy ears like hobbits, and they live forever and ever. Well, almost."

"Hobbits?" Chichiri was becoming very confused. "Nani? Immortals?"

"Me and Merry and Sam and Frodo---he's over there---are hobbits. Geez, are you from across the Seas or something?" Pippin gave Chichiri a pitying look.

"I told you, I'm from Konan," Chichiri said patiently.

"And where's that?" A gruff voice belonging to a short, stout person rang out. "To the west?"

"I guess so. . . " Chichiri was puzzled. "Are you a hobbit, too? No da?"

"No, da, I'm a dwarf. Gimli's my name. So you're from the west. Ever been into Mordor?"

"Mordor?"

"Yes, the place with the big old volcano and an evil madman whose corporeal existence consists entirely of a gigantic, overgrown, orange and yellow and red fiery _eye_!"

"Nope, no da."

"How could you be from the west and not know about Sauron??!!" Gimli bellowed. Chichiri cringed and ducked behind the elf Legolas.

"Leave him alone, dwarf," Legolas said coldly. "Has it ever occurred to you that there might be some good folk living beyond the Black Land?"

"Both of you, drop it," Aragorn sighed. "Let's see how Gandalf is getting on." He stood wearily and went to the old man, who was whacking the door with his staff temperamentally.

"He is Gandalf?" Chichiri asked Legolas.

"Yes, Gandalf or Mithrandir. He is a wizard."

Chichiri nodded sagely. "He uses his chi, na no da."

"For the fifth time, what is a chi?"

Chichiri leaned on his shajukou. "Spiritual force. It is different from the life force, no da."

Legolas nodded vaguely, eyeing the bangles on the staff. "Are those necessary? We want to keep quiet."

"They announce the presence of a monk," Chichiri said, a little hurt.

"They'll have to be muffled. We don't want your presence announced, since we're with you, and _we_ don't want to be announced." From his pack, Legolas took a roll of bandages and helped Chichiri to wrap the copper and bronze rings. "What's a monk?"

"Me. _I_ am a monk. A man who has devoted his life to a religion, na no da." Chichiri shook his shajukou hesitantly and grimaced as the familiar jangles became dull 'tok tok tok'. "I worship Suzaku, the Red Bird of the South."

"Oh." Legolas was at a loss for words. "That's nice." He cast about for some sort of conversation topic. "So. . . "

"YOU STUPID LITTLE HOBBIT!!!" shouted Aragorn suddenly. "WHAT THE HECK DID YOU DISTURB THE WATER FOR??!!"

Pippin stood guiltily by the shore of the lake, holding some pebbles in his small hand. "Umm. . . "

"DON'T YOU 'UMM' ME, PEREGRIN TOOK!!" Aragorn continued to yell.

"I think Aragorn is a little stressed," Frodo said sagely, and he went to aid Gandalf with that pesky door.

Chichiri, his advisory instincts brought out, went to Aragorn and tried to speak some soothing words to the distraught and edgy king-to-be-but-currently-in-unstable-exile. "Daaaa, it would be better, perhaps, if you tried to discuss Pippin's stone-skipping habits with him, lying out rational reasons for your discomfort and---"

"Quiet, mongrel," Aragorn snapped, in a really nasty mood. He wished Arwen were there.

"Monk, no da," Chichiri corrected.

"Moor?"

"Monk."

"Monkey."

"No 'ee'. Just monk. No. Da."

"Ah. Right you are. Monk. Sorry." Aragorn counted to ten, patted a _really_ disturbed Pippin on the head, and strolled off, his mind in a fantasy world that included Arwen, Arwen, and Arwen.

Chichiri blinked and turned to Pippin. "I sense deadly chi around this lake. It is wiser if you refrain from stone-throwing, no da."

Pippin smiled. "Okay." He dropped the pebbles and wandered off.

The rest of the Fellowship stared at Chichiri. "He is a miracle worker," whispered Gimli.

Meanwhile, Frodo suggested Gandalf try the elvish word for _friend_. Gandalf complied, somewhat awed of Frodo's brilliance. "_Mellon_. . . "

As everyone gathered around the glowing door, it slowly creaked open. Gandalf grinned at Frodo and began to herd them all inside. Chichiri started to follow, but then something prickled at the back of his neck. "Evil chi. . . " he muttered. He focused his senses on it, and realized it was coming from the lake. "No daaa! Quickly!" he shouted. "Inside!" Turning, he saw the Watcher of the Waters swimming smoothly and silently towards the shore. Chichiri gaped at the sheer size of the thing and swiftly backed up to the door, preparing the most powerful chi-shield he had time to muster. When the Watcher made a grab at Frodo, its tentacle was deflected and stung by Chichiri's seishi powers. It retreated posthaste.

"Learns quickly," Chichiri commented, turning to follow the others into Moria. He was stopped short by a stampede of hobbits heading in the opposite direction---out. "N-nani?"

"LOTS OF DEAD DWARVES!!!" yelled the hobbits in unison.

"Oh," said Chichiri. "That is very sorrowful, no da, de gozaru. . . " [Note: de gozaru translates very roughly into 'that it is.' Kenshin thing. ;)]

Gandalf stomped out of Moria, scowling fiercely. "We can't go through Moria. Too dangerous. Orcs. Goblins. Trolls. Balrogs, too, probably."

"Oh, dear," Chichiri said. "Well, why do you need to go through Moria, no da?"

Gandalf pointed to the mountain range. "We need to be on the other side."

"Why?"

The wizard studied Chichiri carefully, and, oddly, decided immediately that Chichiri was trustworthy. . . even an asset. "We need to destroy an evil Ring. . . "

Chichiri listened carefully as Gandalf explained everything to him. He nodded, asked appropriate questions, and made insightful observations. Gandalf's opinion of him rose tenfold.

"I have an idea, no da," Chichiri said. "You should call these eagles you know and have them fly Frodo and other necessary companions over this Mountain of Gloom, Doom, or whatever it is, and then have him drop the Ring down into the fire. It's very efficient and risks go down considerably."

Gandalf gaped at him. "Oh. . . Elbereth. . . Gilthoniel. . . " he whispered. "You. . . are. . . brilliant. Of course, our adventures won't be nearly as exciting and Master Tolkien won't sell as many books, but it will save countless lives. Let's do it. And you're coming."

"Da?" Chichiri asked.

"Yes, indeed. You have been invaluable to the group. Come, we must summon eagles!"

An hour later, Gandalf shouted something he wasn't supposed to shout until _The Return of the King_, at the Battle of the Pellenor Fields. "The eagles are coming! The eagles are coming!" They all took up the cry.

Climbing onto the backs of the willing eagles, the Fellowship took flight. In a matter of days, they had flown all the way to Mordor. While the Fellowship fought off the Ringwraiths, Frodo and Gwaihir dipped low over the volcano, and the brave hobbit dropped in the Ring. It was destroyed! Yay! And as a bonus, Sauron's dominion was also annihilated! Everyone celebrated! There was dancing in the streets! There were day-long feasts! There were epic poems read and epic songs sung until epic throats were bedridden from overuse and laryngitis! The throat-lozenge company was making a fortune! The Fellowship, all ten of them, were praised as heroes, as were the gallant eagles! Aragorn was crowned King! Arwen came to Minas Tirith and they were married! Life was just peachy keen!

But Chichiri knew that he had to get back to Konan. His week-long (yes, only seven days) excursion into Middle Earth was fine, but he had to report back to Taiitsu-kun, find a certain wayward priestess, and summon a god from a random animistic religion. . . all the usual sort of things he did back at home. So he went up to Gandalf on the eighth day and said, "Um, I must return home, no da."

Gandalf nodded seriously. "I understand. But you are always welcome in Middle Earth."

Chichiri grinned. "Da!"

At that moment, a cat appeared from nowhere. Chichiri blinked. It was the same one that had brought him to Middle Earth. Smiling softly, he bent down and stroked the black fur design on the cat's back.

Again, his surroundings whirled in a blaze of colors and sensations. Chichiri sighed in satisfaction. He was prepared to return to his seishi duties.

But when his vision cleared, he stood, sans cat, on a grassy lawn, facing wide steps leading to a huge castle. It was carved in an odd mix of Romanesque, Gothic, and classical styles. But Chichiri, being from ancient mythical China, didn't know that. All he knew was that this was _not_ Konan.

"I don't think that cat likes me very much, no da," he mumbled.

"Who are you?" asked a boy with a lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

Chichiri sighed. Here we go again.

Notes

Lame, ne? It's meant to be rather abrupt, but perhaps I overdid it. What do you think? Yes, you! Why are you walking away? Click on that 'Submit Review' button there! Ha, whatever; I'm exhausted. I want to go sleep now. (Happy Birthday, Mee-chan! This is for you.) Tsukiyo


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